Sometimes, I Just Go For It
by MP119
Summary: Tonight, I'm gonna dance. Oneshot, RHr.


**Title: **Sometimes, I Just Go For It.

**Summary: **Ron's going where no man's ever gone before...to the dance floor. RHR pointless fluff, oneshort.

**Author's Note:** I stole the title from The Used so sue me. Inspired by Norma's prompt, "tonight." Also, a cookie to anyone who can spot my Dane Cook homage lol.

* * *

I hate dancing.

No, hate isn't the right word. Dancing is the cruelest form of torture ever designed. I'd take triple Potions with Snape over dancing any day.

I _abhor_ dancing. There, that's better.

I simply can't do it. Seriously. You know the guy on the dance floor with absolutely no sense of rhythm who trips over his own feet? Everyone gives him a wide berth so as to avoid being hit by his flailing limbs? Him. Yeah. That would be me.

It's not like I haven't tried, so don't laugh. My dad and brothers attempted to teach me. Harry's tried, Mum's tried. Even Ginny gave it a shot. They all ended up throwing their hands up in exasperation and saying, "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? I think you might have an inner ear problem."

But I'm braving potential humiliation and possible physical injury tonight. Forget facing Death Eaters or throwing up slugs. This may be the hardest thing I've ever done. Most likely, I'll have to be led off the dance floor by mediwitches.

Tonight is Bill and Fleur's wedding reception.

Tonight I've promised myself to give it a shot.

Tonight, I'm gonna dance.

Why am I putting myself through this torture? The reason is simple, really. It has bushy brown hair, a know-it-all attitude, and answers to the name _Hermione_.

After the wedding ceremony, she smiled at me, which she so rarely does these days what with the war going on and all, and said, "You'll save me a dance tonight, right?"

I feebly shook my head and replied, "I don't dance."

She chuckled. "Nonsense, Ron. Everyone dances."

"Not me. I really don't have the coordination to pull off dancing."

Now she laughed. Really, the worst thing for a bloke to endure is having the girl of his dreams laugh at him. "You make it seem like it's horribly complicated. Don't worry, I'll teach you. See you at the reception." And with that, she ran off to catch up with Ginny.

Which is why I'm currently standing by the punch bowl in dress shoes that pinch my feet, trying to appear inconspicuous. Hermione is chatting animatedly with Gabrielle, Fleur's little sister. I half hope she's forgotten about her promise. At the same time, I really hope she hasn't.

If nothing else, tonight will be a chance to have Hermione in my arms.

She looks lovely tonight. She opted against dress robes and instead is wearing a light yellow dress. Her hair is loose and falls down her back in curls.

Gabrielle runs off and Hermione is left alone. Suddenly, the band switches to something slower. She catches my eyes.

Oh no, she's coming my way.

I hastily swallow what's left of my drink and hope my mouth isn't stained red because of it. Last thing I need right now is to look like a clown.

I can smell her now. She smells like a rose garden. "So are you about ready for that dance?"

I start to decline, start to shake my head no. She must sense my response because her face falls a little. Her lower lip starts to poke out in a slight pout. Oh no, please don't do that. I hear myself say, "Yeah, I reckon so." This is the effect Hermione has on me.

She beams again, reaches for my hand, and leads me to the dance floor. The violins wail and the air smells like honeysuckle.

"Put your right hand on my waist," she says.

I obey, remembering that dancing has a few perks. She puts one hand on my shoulder and takes her free hand in mine. "Now follow my lead."

I try to mimic her steps but I can't seem to concentrate. Her smell is clouding my senses. Now that I can see her up close I realize that she's done whatever it is that girls do to make themselves look even better. Her skin glows, her eyes look big and brown. Her lips shine with some unidentifiable substance. Thanks to her shoes, she's eye-level with my mouth.

She's watching me with a critical eye. "Why are you so stiff?"

I could easily make a dirty joke right now but I refrain. "I told you, I don't dance."

"You're not doing too badly so far. Just loosen your hips a little."

What? Loosen my hips? I have no idea what she's talking about.

My confusion must show on my face because she puts her hands on my hips. "Like this." She moves both our bodies to the beat, pressing her body into mine in the process.

Merlin. Tonight just gets better and better.

"There, now you got it. Just follow, the steps. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four," she coaches as she guides us around the floor. "Do that in a wide circle. And remember, stay loose."

I'm in shock. I'm dancing. With Hermione. And I haven't tripped or anything. This is unbelievable.

Someone bumps into her from behind and she collides into me. Her chest pushes against mine and my hands automatically go to her lower back to set her upright. This small bit of contact is enough to arouse me further.

Bloody hell. Now I probably look like a giant tomato.

Hermione blushes too and says, "Sorry."

I clear my throat. "Nothing to be sorry about."

I realize that we're dancing in silence. Maybe I should say something, make things a little less uncomfortable. "You um…look very nice tonight."

She smiles up at me. "Thank you."

I should've tried this complimenting thing sooner. "You're welcome. So where did you learn to dance?"

"Oh, my grandfather taught me when I was younger. He used to love to dance."

"Wow, I didn't know that." I realize that there are a lot of things I probably don't know about Hermione, even after all this time. She's not one to blab on about her personal life.

Now we both have the rhythm of the dance down. Her small hand fits in mine perfectly and her body fits into the nooks and crannies of mine.

Hermione lets out a contented sigh and lays her head on my shoulder. My chin rests on top of her head and the scent of her hair fills my nostrils.

It pains me a little to admit it but there is nowhere I'd rather be tonight than on the dance floor with Hermione.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"You're a quick study, contrary to popular belief."

Is that an insult? It feels like one. I'll let it go though. I'm more interested in how soft her arms feel under my hands. "Well, I had a good teacher."

She chuckles softly and lets out another sigh. I don't know what it is, but there's nothing sexier than a girl letting out a small sigh into your ear.

I feel the song coming to an end and wish I could freeze time. I glance down at her. She has her eyes closed and has a small smile on her face.

There's no reason not to. I mean, if I _danced_, why not just go for it?

Before I could psyche myself out, I'm reaching for her chin and drawing her face up. Her eyes open and I could see the question forming on her lips. I kiss her before she can get the words out, reminding myself to slow down and marveling at how wonderful it feels. Her arms tighten around my waist as she sinks further into the kiss. I hear her quiet moan.

Merlin, why haven't I done this sooner? Oh, that's right. Because I am the definition of a git.

Shut up, brain.

After what could've been minutes or years, we pull away. We're both beaming as the song ends. Wordlessly, I offer Hermione my hand and lead her into the house. I'm sure there's a discussion we need to have but hell, it's waited this long. It can wait a little longer.

Dancing is really my new favorite pastime.

-end


End file.
